Grisaille
by laurose
Summary: Weiss/Schwarz: AH where the butterfly, yes, that butterfly changed weather, causing not a storm but a draught that woke Crawford in time to attend one vision. Warnings: yaoi, spoilers for the Schwarz CDs
1. Hai iro

Thanks to my beta Sybil Rowan, who plunged into a flood of prose and saved the fic from drowning.

disclaimer: you're in luck, they're not mine

time: Aya-chan is awake

* * *

Yohji had produced this penthouse suite for refuge, claiming a rich girlfriend. If the other Weiss noticed there seemed nothing feminine about the furnishings, they made no mention. They'd long decided Yohji's private life was his private business. Even he wasn't too at home in the expensive, Western furnishings.

Aya checked his team. They'd been caught without weapons, except Yohji's watch. They were in house clothes, which had not stood up well to the last couple of days. They were grey with tiredness, and had no idea what to do. Aya decided they would still be able to kick ass for a couple of days.

This was especially hard on Omi, who'd been raised to be Kritiker's. He looked as steady as Yohji and Ken. Lately he'd found something besides school and work. It could be many things, but... With a lover waiting he'd want to leave his Bombay identity behind and walk into a new life. Aya didn't think Kritiker could be lost so easily, and Weiss had nothing but Weiss.

Aya's dark voice was smooth and cool as ever as he said, "We must stay together. Alone we'd be picked off."

"We can't go on like this, Aya-kun."

"Then we sleep in shifts."Aya surveyed the spacious cover-free dining room. Perhaps some other room could be better defended.

Yohji said, "It's about time I started making like a detective."

Neither Aya and Ken felt he needed encouragement, but Omi was polite to the marrow and asked, "What do you mean, Yohji-kun?"

"Let me summarise the case. The situation, I mean." Yohji looked at both Ken and Omi meaningfully. Not for the first time, Aya was aware he was the fourth man of a three man team. "After that last – mess - we got together and decided we had to be able to choose to let a target live. It took us several days to arrange a meeting with Birman. She listened as cold as her - "

"Yohji-kun!" Omi stopped him before he could say it.

"And told us to wait Kritiker's response. It took less than half an hour before they launched that sleep gas into the Koneko, and some of that might have been waiting until all four of us were in the same room. You're going to tell me that she contacted Persia, he made up his mind, and they set up a response in twenty minutes. Not to mention actually transporting heavy artillery through Tokyo traffic."

Omi said tiredly, "So I failed to spot Kritiker's bugs. That was always a possibility."

"Then we must be bugged too, and we checked each other thoroughly. Wherever we've gone, Kritiker's found us. Sometimes they've been there before us."

Omi winced. "Nowadays the electronic survey of Tokyo - "

"Is something we're trained to avoid. Kids, we better face up to the fact that one of us is a traitor."

"Not Weiss!" said Ken indignantly.

"Well, not you, Kenken. Who was Kritiker before he was Weiss? Whose first loyalty is someone outside the team? Who's made every effort to stay apart from his team members?" Yohji sat forward. His gaze on Aya was hard as stone. "And who's kept us together when we could hide so much better separately. You told us you went to Aya-chan after the Koneko blew. And who else?"

Aya's eyes were no softer. "No one else. I haven't betrayed you." Aya repeated his argument. "Hiding is no solution. We have to get Persia before he gets us."

"Ri-ight! Let's tie ribbons round our necks before delivering ourselves to Persia!"

Aya gritted his teeth, something he did a lot around Yohji, and said, "Keep me out of the planning if you want, and don't tell me anything more than what to do." From Yohji he looked at Ken, who trusted him, but trusted Yohji more. Ken was not angry, he could see how Aya-chan as a hostage would force Aya to betray his team. But the gun in Ken's hand was cocked and steady. He must have got it from the last lot of Kritiker agents.

"Sorry," said Siberian briefly. "But..."

Yohji wasn't sure Ken would actually use a gun on Aya, or that it would stop Aya if he did. He doubled a length of his wire and braided it with a piece of yellow silk found in the apartment, producing makeshift but very effective handcuffs, tethering Aya to his chair with them.

Omi looked at the two elder Weiss, nodded as if checking off something on a list, and said, "Yohji-kun may be paranoid with tiredness. But I owe it to him to trust him." He squared his shoulders and turned away from Aya. "Balinese, what do you think we should do?"

Yohji reached into his jacket pocket.

Omi blurted, "Don't shoot him, Yohji-kun!"

Yohji gave a good try at his old smirk. "Relax, kiddo. I don't like loud bangs." He took out two thin blue booklets. "Finest false passports real money can buy. One for each of us. I think we'd be better separating, but the main point is to get to the airport as quick as possible." For a few moments he took his wary look off Aya and focused on the others. "And if anything at all happens, contact me. My new cell number's in the flap."

Omi scooped them up and passed Ken his, nudging his hand to remind him to put away his gun. "Bags the freight lift, Kenken. You won't kill him, will you?"

Yohji's smirk sharpened. "I'd rather leave him to explain his failure to Kritiker. I don't think they'll be as forgiving as you."

Aya was sure about that. "This is all false, you know. Logical but wrong. Tokyo might be wired better than we know, or Kritiker have a few psychics of their own." And, yes, he could unwittingly be the spy, through Kritiker mind games like Omi's so-convenient amnesia.

Ken asked, "Schwarz, you mean?" He flexed his fists automatically.

"Schwarz is probably on some tropical beach. But there must be a few native psychics."

"Race you to Narita, Ken-kun." Omi didn't look at Aya. He said steadily, "Good bye, Yohji-kun," and went out the door.

Ken touched Aya's shoulder for a second. "Hurting Aya-chan wouldn't get them anything." He looked at Yohji for a moment, his best friend for years. "Thanks, man. Don't do some noble stunt to buy us time. I wanna see you with some of those hot Australian chicks." He marched out and slammed the door. Aya thought he might be the better for meeting a few convenient Kritiker paunching bags.

Yohji took out a rather squashed cigarette and lit it with steady fingers. "I'm not wrong. Weiss was planted with an agent who had prior loyalty to Persia, and who never put friendship before the big picture. Persia was really worried about Ken and his sports circle pulling Omi out of Kritiker's influence."

"You're the spy?" Kind, romantic Yohji who supported Omi and joked with Ken.

Yohji seemed remarkably unfazed, but Yohji generally seemed unfazed. "Who did you think it was?"

While Aya had _hoped_ it was someone unknowing, he'd thought, "Omi. He'd think he was doing the right thing." As if he owed Persia anything that couldn't be delivered by his bow.

"Omi's too loyal to people. Meant to be reporting to Kritiker, but was covering for us all. Especially you."

"Why?" A question that didn't seem to be on Yohji's map. "Why betray your two best friends?"

"I'm Kritiker's to the bone. We took on service as soon as we left high school, Asuka and I."

There was no point in telling Kudoh his loyalty to Persia was clutching to the life he'd shared with his dead love. Kudoh was doing the right thing, whatever the reason. Just as Aya's rejection of service was the right thing, though the reasons were more to do with the tightness of the collar than Ken and Omi's scruples.

And the handcuffs were just too tight to escape.

"What is Kritiker going to do to them?"

"That's not my responsibility."

Aya kicked Yohji's chair from under him. The table guarded Yohji so Aya could do no more than sideswipe another chair into his knees. It screened Yohji from seeing a serious try at the cuffs. "Your treachery - "

Yohji picked up the less smashed of the two chairs, weighing it in one hand. Aya tensed to dodge. Yohji set it down the other way round, straddled it with his forearms on the back, and smirked at Aya. "I'm the only one who's stayed loyal to our lord, shadow samurai."

"Why not just shoot me? Birman want to do it herself?"

"Up to me, I would have. But Persia's had to hire talent to replace Weiss. They've got some unfinished business with you."

For a second Aya hoped the opening door meant Ken or Omi were coming back. And then would they believe him? He scarcely believed it himself.

Schuldig and Farfarello walked in. Schuldig had the smuggest look even he'd come up with. Farfarello looked as usual; unreadable, unpredictable and fatal.

Hands bound, Aya had no chance of opening the other door.

Aya crashed the chair he was bound to against the table, breaking the chair and cracking the table. He threw half the chair at Schuldig's head. Aya was just behind it, trying to get out the door. The heavy Western chair hit the half open lightweight door which crumpled, unfortunately in the doorway. Farfarello tackled him, seeming to forget his knives, and Aya rolled with the tackle, managing to fling him at Schuldig, who was just straightening up from the chair. Using what little momentum he had left he slammed a kick at the closest wall heel first. With steel capped boots he could kick a hole in the average wall. With sandshoes he only dented it.

Okay, so escape or survival would only happen if a meteorite fell through the roof, or Farfarello repented, but perhaps he could gain a little time for Ken and Omi.

Further off balance with his hands bound, he tried to get the recovering Schuldig between himself and Farfarello. One more step and he could use the television flex -

He felt a sharp line around his neck. Fool! After everything, to forget Balinese was an enemy!

Berserker's knife flashed at his throat. Not to kill, but to cut away the wire. He was grasping his numbed right arm and pushing him towards Schuldig, who grabbed his left. The German's distinctive voice twanged, "Now, now, Balinese, didn't you read your horoscope this morning? It said mercy killings could have unfortunate consequences."

Schuldig grasping his left shoulder, Farfarello his right, and all Aya could look at was Yohji's lovely, lying eyes for a sign this was against Yohji's true will. The look back was sad, but didn't have the same sort of doubts and remorse he saw in Ken and Omi. Aya wondered if Yohji's might end up hurting more deeply. Aya resisted the urge to spit in one eye. It wouldn't help if he'd any chance at all to talk him out of handing over the others.

Schwarz would probably be a better deal for Kritiker. Ken's sanity was slipping and he didn't enjoy it as Farfarello did. Kritiker might decide to cut their losses on him, perhaps give him to Schwarz to play with.

They had a lot invested in Omi. Aya felt nausea at the thought of Kritiker cutting Omi's mind about to make him more into what they wanted. Would they use Schuldig or would some whitecoated flunky do the same thing with technology? Omi struggling to keep the last core of himself alive and failing, Ken under Farfarello's skilled knife.

Rather disconnectedly, Aya realised he was cold, breathing quickly and shallowly. In fact, panicking. He said, "Is anyone here interested in a lot of money?" He looked from Schuldig to Farfarello. "Bombay is very like your own Naoe." He looked at Yohji. "I don't think Manx would be that sorry if he got away. She might even be grateful."

"No, she wouldn't." Yohji's smile was complicit with the absent woman. All that banter could have been a different sort of play acting.

"She cares about Omi." But even as he spoke Aya realised she'd always cared more about Kritiker. His stomach knotted and he wondered if he could be sick over Kudoh's expensive boots. He looked toward Schuldig. "Your new boss, boys. I hope Kritiker's paying you well enough for that."

As usual Schuldig seemed amused. "We like the fringe benefits." Relaxing his grasp of Aya's shoulder not one whit, he ran the fingertips of his other hand down the side of Aya's neck. Farfarello growled.

Aya tried to ignore both comments. "You like being exactly where you were with Esset? Kritiker's showing that they'll treat you just the same."

"No, they won't," said Yohji. "Schwarz is too powerful, and Kritiker knows it."

Delay, delay... "Tell me one thing before you kill me. What absurd job has Kritiker arranged for Schwarz's cover?"

Yohji almost smiled. "Crawford made it obvious he's only hiring on for one job at a time."

"Schwarz had better make sure of that. Perhaps on the way to Narita," concentrate on thoughts of the airport, of Omi and Ken boarding a plane, "you might care to look at the various businesses. See which ones you feel most comfortable in." He would not think of trains and boats.

"You know," said Schuldig, giving him a small shake. "That's giving me a headache. It's no use anyway, Kritker's got the airports and the stations and the ports sewn up."

"Bombay will be waiting for me at Narita," agreed Yohji.

Aya made an appeal he already felt useless. "Omi and Ken are your friends. You owe Ken - "

"For stopping him running out on his teammates?" So that was what it had been. Kudoh looked at Schuldig. "Crawford said he'd have Siberian by now, so I'll collect Bombay."

"Whatever your little white heart desires," drawled Schuldig. Both Schwarz focused on Aya as Yohji walked out of the room.

Aya focused back. "The money offer still stands. You have no personal grudge against either Bombay - "

Unexpectedly Farfarello laughed. "Ye wouldna believe t'e grudges I have aginst Bombay."

His grip on Aya slackened and Aya slammed his shoulder into Schuldig's chest. That hit could have been deadly but Schuldig was stronger and faster than a normal. He merely lost all colour in his face and began trying to gulp air and vomit at the same time. Aya tried to circle to Farfarello's blind side.

Schudig proved he recovered at superspeed too. He threw Aya against the wall, winding him. Aya's hands were pressed into blazing pain.

With a sneer that was more of a snarl, Schuldig held him up with one hand and drew back a fist for a full bodied punch. He aimed for over the heart.

"Schu-kun!" said a familiar voice. "Stop that!" Omi was pulling Schuldig's shoulder, then the long red hair. Schuldig twisted a bit to throw him off, and Farfarello moved forward to join the fray. Aya managed to kick each Schwarz. Schuldig swore. Farfarello of course didn't notice. Oddly enough he tugged Schuldig's hair too. "You'll leave t'e cats alone, as Crawford tol' y'."

Schuldig looked at him, looked at Aya with a blind angry look.

Suddenly Aya was drowned in grief, fear, loss...Normally Schuldig was more restrained, but he was pulling out all the stops now. Aya glared back. These emotions were not his and Aya refused to accept delivery.

Then Schuldig and Farfarello floated apart and away from Aya. Farfarello landed beside Omi and put his arm around him. Omi didn't even seem to notice, he was looking at Aya, his expression worried but not the smooth mask he showed when frightened.

Aya began struggling to do without the support of the wall. What he was going to do if he reached them he didn't know, but thought he should be between Farfarello and Omi.

Farfarello took his arm from around Omi and the blond ran over to Aya and helped him straighten. Aya blinked a couple of times. Normally he thought faster than this, but it had been a rough couple of days even before the last bit. "You and _Farfarello_?" Omi nodded, enthusiastically. Well, that would explain why Omi had never found the chance to put an arrow in Farfarello's eye. It also cast new light on Ouka's death.

Omi answered his next question before he could ask it. "It is consensual, Aya-kun."

"On Farfarello's part, I'm sure." Aya looked into Omi's eyes. He knew their weather, from the cloudless blue of his most Omi, to the icy bluegrey of Bombay, to the occasional cloudy twilight when Mamoru's ghost prowled. He had never before seen so intense and profound a sapphire. What looked back at him wasn't a schoolboy, however bright and responsible. If this Omi was lying to protect him or Ken there wasn't much he could do about it. He thought of Farfarello and his knives and rage and laughter. Maybe something would come up. "And Ken?" He looked around, focussing desperately, but Ken hadn't appeared.

Schuldig laughed. There was something in it less hostile and flippant than usual. "He and Crawford are still in denial, telling themselves they're the straights of our teams." He seemed to have got over the fight far quicker than Aya, and was looking at his opponent as smug as ever. But Ken was more important.

Still just inside the doorway, Nagi spoke. "Schu, if I release you will you behave yourself?"

"Very well indeed!"

Farfarello spoke. "He'll behave himself."

Schuldig transferred the smirk to his teammate. "You're so much less fun now you're a stodgy married man."

"Guilty one, never'd I let you break what t'e team needs." He walked towards Omi and Aya, slow and steady so as not to spook Abyssinian further. Aya suddenly realised his knees were going to give way any moment and he was about to undergo the further humiliation of kneeling before Farfarello. "And a fine uncraftmanlike job ye're doin' of it, too."

Aya's mind was painting horrors of Farfarello and Omi together. Schuldig smirked so wide he was grinning. It showed long white sharp teeth. To Farfarello, "I'd only bend him a bit. You should know not to take a little fun too seriously." Those deep browed eyes were a smokier blue than Omi's, and they showed a glint of green or gold when the light shifted. More to Aya than Farfarello he said, "You get lots of fun nowadays." Farfarello slapped the back of his head.

Aya felt a steady pressure wrap around him, supporting and constricting. He tossed his head in a convulsive struggle against it, but it gave not at all. Omi gave a startled sideways glance at Nagi and tried his best to ease things. "It's all right, Aya-kun. Farfarello's gentle..." He blushed as everyone looked at him.

Schuldig laughed the first healthy, unaffected laugh Aya had ever heard from him. Farfarello grinned only the least bit like a lunatic. He grabbed Schuldig with one hand and Omi with the other and hustled them out of the Schwarz flat. "We're leavin' ye two alone."

Nagi circled round Aya and looked thoughtfully at the handcuffs. After a moment they tore like wet paper. Aya's hands were clumsy as he tried to rub his wrists. Nagi's small white hands reached out and stroked them. Aya was surprised at the strength of them until he remembered all talents were stronger. A few school bullies must have been equally surprised.

Aya looked through his unkempt bangs at the youngest Schwarz. Not as young looking as he remembered him, especially dressed in noire couture with silver buckles. "Is Ken - ?" He broke off and coughed.

Nagi floated a glass of water in from the kitchen and steadied it as Aya drank. "That's between him and Crawford, now. The rest of Schwarz is staying out of it, if you do too."

"And you want..?"

Nagi smiled slowly and deliberately. He was looking less like a schoolboy every minute.

The pins and needles were a welcome distraction, but now they seemed to spread to Aya's spine. He said flatly, "You can get better sex from any ten-yen whore. The freak colouring means nothing at all. Does my eau de sewer turn you on?"

"You don't smell at all like a sewer to me." Nagi's nose brushed just under Aya's ear. What was it about Schwarz and necks? Aya tried to shove him away and found himself pushing solid air. He tried to jerk away. He was unusually strong for a normal, but Nagi's small hands held him. He was probably reinforcing his physical strength with telekinesis. They looked at each other for a moment. Nagi stroked the tousled red hair.

Aya didn't think he would be killed. He'd met men whose pleasure was in the kill. But he did think he was going to be hurt. He was used to pain. As his shirt peeled off he told himself it was just more pain. A few hours, then Nagi would have had enough and he could go.

Nagi said, "K'sou!" He was staring at Aya's bare torso and arms, but not in lust. "Was that Schuldig?"

It took a minute for Aya to realise what he was talking about. "The bruises?" Nagi had sounded surprisingly put out, as if his birthday present was the wrong colour. Aya wouldn't have been human if he hadn't felt the temptation to make trouble for the trouble maker. But Omi's fortune seemed to be invested in Farfarello's. Though unlikely, if Nagi wanted payback for his discoloured present it might weaken Schwarz. "That was yesterday. Kritiker nearly got us with a bomb, and a wall fell on me." Nagi was looking at the new bruises, and the old ones under them, and the scars, and the prominent ribs. Aya's fine skin showed bruises easily; it was the main reason he had the habit of long-sleeved high-necked clothing. Aya looked away from his face in shame. One humiliation he hadn't expected was pity.

* * *

Schuldig pouted, then shrugged off his disappointment with a brief grin. Schuldig had been looking forward to seeing Fujimiya submit to gentling. Still, he wouldn't want a Nagi who'd do it to a hurt prisoner, especially one asleep on his feet.

He barely thought of spying on Farf and Omi. Farf had made it clear what sort of thing would happen if he found him doing that again.

He touched Crawford's mind. Crawford's explanation to Ken had started in a tone so flat it was hard to call it boasting. Ken was the first Weiss after Omi to find out how Schwarz had arranged for that last non-mission. A night's shuffling and marking of futures by Crawford, a computer 'glitch' by Nagi, a brief nudge from Schuldig so the more in-your-face Birman was sent in Manx's place and it was over before Farfarello had finished breakfast. Siberian had reacted as to be expected. Now Crawford was demonstrating some basic prize fighting.

Schuldig blinked his own eyes as he adjusted to using Crawford's poorer vision. Hidaka, who didn't look in much better shape than Fujimiya, said, "You smug bastard!" and swung wildly.

"I am merely demonstrating that I am _not_ 'totally dependent on my gun'." Crawford stepped sideways with contemptuous ease as Hidaka tried a tackle. "I thought your game was soccer, Hidaka."

"You're right." Hidaka tried to grin. "By soccer standards, you lost the game first quarter. You've been following me all over the field and left your goal wide open. Not the first time, eh?"

Schuldig had to point out, *You know, this is going to end in bed.*

*But we're going to have a lot of fun first. Damn!* Crawford held his black eye. *Stop distracting me!*

*I could distract Hidaka in turn. Frankly, you look as if you could do with some help.*

Crawford dismissed him with a final *Narita.*

Schuldig knew that final order was probably only to get rid of him but decided to follow it nonetheless. After all, the prescient's courtship, no doubt carefully scheduled, was not about to yield any immediate stroke material. He didn't pout as often as Crawford sometimes claimed, but he pouted now. Everyone else had their Weiss, why couldn't he?

Because Kudoh was so straight he didn't even notice all the other Weiss occasionally drooling over him. Even if Schuldig managed to persuade him he wasn't, and Schuldig had reason to be confident he could, Kudoh was a good enough detective he'd probably notice Schwarz wasn't Kritiker's new improved Weiss.

Nagi was meant to show up while Kritiker was looking for their two missing killers, in order to rub it in that Schwarz had nothing to do with their disappearance. Also that Kritiker needed all the help it could get. Nagi now thought his red kitty more important – better than a stuffed bunny, the rest of Schwarz thought - so Schuldig was the obvious choice. Except Nagi was meant to look innocent and Schuldig didn't do that very well.

Schuldig had rather expected Kritiker to put out a terrorist alarm, but they didn't want to frighten their quarry from the intensely surveilled and controlled airport. If anything, the place seemed more relaxed than normal, with the officious Narita cops looking subdued. It didn't help their morale that they'd been ordered to keep away from McDonald's.

The first one to strut over to him he filled with the knowledge he had offended someone of the greatest importance, and had him drive Schuldig to McDonald's.

Dismissing his tame policeman with a lordly wave of the hand, he was jolted for a second. He'd have thought Persia order Manx to sit this one out.

On the other hand, Kudoh he'd been braced to meet. From Manx' mind he should be in the other terminal. He was directing the filming of a Japan Airlines advert starring a television personality. Impossible for Omi to miss.

The cool fast flow of her thoughts reminded him of Fujimiya. For a moment he was tempted to comfort her, tell her the kid was all right.

Schuldig had met Hanae Kitada before. He already knew she'd been Shuuichi's most faithful follower, not because she loved him, but because he'd been Persia. She hadn't been as much of a bastard to Omi as Shuuichi had been, but she'd helped turn him into Kritiker's. Even so, Schuldig would have expected to find her mourning Omi Tsukiyono. But Manx had never dealt with Omi. To her, he was something Bombay wore.

She sat in a conspicuous spot in front of McDonald's. Schuldig didn't like Kritiker agents in conspicuous spots, it screamed trap to him. He probed her mind and was gratified, but not surprised, to find he was quite right. Thinking the hungry teenager would be bound to visit McDonald's, where he'd be hidden in the herd, she was waiting for Bombay to come to her for help. She had a plate of the special to make her look less for sale, but to judge by her most recent memories it hadn't helped that much.

She was already looking coldly annoyed. She stared at Schuldig and that didn't change.

Schuldig sat on the bench beside her, looked earnestly in the opposite direction, very conspicuous considering how Manx was dressed, and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "The grey geese are flying tonight." In a genuine German accent.

With a look at his clothes, "So are the parrots. What are _you _doing here?"

"Naoe wants me to read some of Tsukiyono's programming tricks before you start messing him about."

"That isn't possible."

Schuldig took one of her fries. "Come on, I just need ten minutes. Fifteen tops. And it'll help Schwarz do a better job for you."

"We don't have him."

"What?" Schuldig snorted laughter. "How could you miss him?"

An almost Fujimiya glare. He listened to her recent memories, flinched, and sifted deeper. She was asking herself the same question. Even Kudoh she didn't trust completely. She couldn't trust anyone completely. This was a deeper cold than Aya's, unrelieved. She'd joined Kritiker in suicidal survivor guilt three Weiss would have recognised. Kritiker had used an outstandingly attractive and smart woman as you'd expect them to. No surviving family for Hanae, no team loyalty. She'd had to bury her memories of being human. They only came as nightmares nowadays. Kritiker was all she had.

He took the one sliver of tomato her plate had held. He knew she'd been looking forward to that tomato. "Well, Fujimiya was concentrating on thoughts of trains and ships. That could have been a double bluff."

"You can - "

"Sort through all the minds in Narita? No. And I wouldn't do it if I could. Don't forget about Naoe when you finally get Tsukiyono." He smirked. "Until Kyoto."

"Wait! We can use Siberian - "

He turned round. "No longer. And Fujimiya's heart gave out. Farfarello never even got a taste."

The emotion from her wasn't warm enough to be called relief. She decided it would save Kritiker trouble as if she was checking off the garbage men had done their job.

Out of sheer curiosity he dug until he found the last remains of something alive. So there had been something between Persia and Manx. He'd treated the shocked, vulnerable girl as could be expected from a Takatori.

'Nagi, you better treat him right.'

* * *

Crawford held his head even before he was awake. Most unprofessional. But then so was letting Hidaka knock him out. His left eye refused to open. He winced at the thought of putting his glasses on. Perhaps a monocle...

He really should have known not to swallow that simple jock facade. Hidaka had gone on plugging at him until his talent had slipped, as given enough chances it would have to. And since he wouldn't hurt Crawford after the knock out blow, his clairvoyance hadn't felt the danger to kick it in as it did with Fujimiya's sword.

"Oh, you're awake," said a most non-Hidaka voice. A saccharine soprano. Though greasily ingratiating, it still managed to carry a squeak. Even still blinking to alert Crawford though it a remarkably silly thing to say. He ought to know if he was awake or not.

A minute later he wasn't so sure. He was in an overflounced, underventilated bedroom that looked like some lcd porn fantasy. The generic blonde looking at him fit right in. Crawford wasn't even wearing his Armani underwear. "I am?"

"Oh, I hope so." The blonde pouted, fluttered her lashes, and otherwise did cute. Crawford could almost hear her doing it by numbers. "The money Suzuki-san paid me, it would be a pity to waste your time sleeping."

Crawford happened to know Hidaka spent a lot of money on those soccer brats of his. "My wallet?"

The blonde's pout looked a bit more real. Most customers waited until afterward. "In your pants." Which were neatly folded by the door. He'd even taken the shiny new bugnuks that Crawford had been going to hand over with a little speech.

Crawford sighed. It would have been uncharacteristically careless of Hidaka to take the actual wallet with its homing device. And despite Schuldig's accusations, Crawford did not individually tag each yen note. He looked at the blonde. Crawford was justified in considering himself good with women. But this time he didn't feel attracted. It was about time he admitted to himself he didn't always want soft curves.

He didn't want Hidaka either. No wonder he'd felt immune to the brunet's undeniable charm. He wanted flame hair and long limbs and attitude. He didn't blame himself for hypocrisy. He'd learnt early in Rosenkreuz to hide what he valued, even from himself.

From the team link Schuldig seemed busy, but Hidaka had left Crawford his cell phone.

Aya woke up with someone breathing into his ear. It was rather soothing in a nonromantic way, the only experience he'd had with this was as a ten-year-old with a puppy. The breathing was coming from Nagi, fortunately asleep. Sometime in their sleep Aya had rolled over, ending up half on top of him. That wasn't what had woken him.

The steel blade under his ear dug in a little deeper. Ken's voice breathed, "If you don't get off the kid right now I'll kill you." Aya slid off.

Ken looked like hell, but even with his bugnuks a little further from Aya's throat he looked dangerous. "If I'd known you were that sort of bastard I'da killed you the first morning. Where's Omi?"

Nagi slid out of bed. Aya wasn't wearing much, but Nagi had only taken off his coat and shoes. "My hero! The room with the metal door." His gaze didn't leave Ken, though not from fear. Aya wasn't vain, but had an idea it meant something if he would rather look at Ken wrapped in Salvation Army than at Aya nearly naked. Nagi smirked a little. "Farfarello's."

Ken was in the doorway and Aya pulling him to a stop before Nagi could blink. Aya's voice growled, "Siberian! We must do this together." He ripped the corner from some heavy plastic that had held computer parts and knocked a point into it, making a misshaped blade. It would break with one blow, but Aya would only get one blow at Farfarello anyway. He nodded to Ken and padded after him.

Light Japanese building. There was no missing Farfarello's musical tenor, though he wasn't exactly speaking. Abyssinian and Siberian went through the door at the same time. They saw the bloody knife.

Which was in Omi's hand. His lover was stretched out beneath him, crooning encouragement as Omi inserted the blade's very tip into Farfarello's chest. Blood spurted.

Omi jerked, the movement of surprise seguing into a turn and throw of the knife before he knew who was the target. As he had a dozen times before on missions, Aya shielded Ken's throat with his blade. The steel knife hung quivering in the plastic with a faint brief hum. For a moment the three Weiss stared at each other in shock, then Farfarello snarled, "Schuldig!"

Aya plucked out the knife. It was a dinky little thing, but better than a bit of plastic. Everyone was keeping a careful eye on the Irishman as Aya said, "This is not gentle, Omi." He held out his hand to Omi, who looked away and said, "This is my pleasure, not Farfarello's."

"Is this Schuldig's doing?"

"No! He's not that strong." With great difficulty, Omi looked back at them both and said. "Once or twice Persia assigned me to honeytrap pedophiles. Sex to me is all mixed up with anger and hurting - " Farfarello erupted.

He went for Ken, perhaps from habit. Aya and Ken took an arm each and tossed him into the far wall. It fazed him little, if at all.

Farfarello stuck to the wall as if glued and Nagi, who was watching all this with appreciation, reminded them, "Don't forget Farf is a biokinetic." His opponents checked the wound on his chest, which now looked like a week old scar.

Ken walked over to Omi, who still looked wretchedly ashamed. He reached out uncertainly to pat him on the shoulder. "Omi, you're the only one who has nothing to say sorry for. We broke into your bedroom. We say we're sorry." Omi looked sceptically at Aya. Ken glared at Aya.

Aya nodded. "We do apologise. Though in like case we'll do it again."

Farfarello grumbled, "D'n _I_ get n'apologies?"

Ken looked so like a Siberian tiger he was nearly lashing a tail. He took one step towards Farfarello. "What we owe _you.._." He took another step. Nagi released Farfarello.

Suddenly Omi stood between Ken and Farfarello. "You must know Farfarello couldn't have murdered his whole family when he was six."

Ken suddenly looked less tigerish. "If they were asleep..." and Nagi snorted.

Omi opened his mouth and Aya 'hnn'ed softly. Catching his glance, Omi relaxed a little. "But Jei can explain himself." He put out his hand and drew him to his side.

Farfarello kept his hand but shook his head. "I'm nae jus' that mon'maniac that faces ye in t'field, but I _am_ crazy. If I begin me rant about what Rosenkreuz did to me, I'll gae on till t'end, rages an' all."

Ken had obviously had enough for the night, and the day before, and the day before that. He wouldn't want to face more losses just now. He'd _liked _Sister Ruth. "If you're good enough for Omi, you're good enough for us." He looked at Nagi. "I suppose she was like Amamiya Kaoruko. There, I can't excuse breaking my promise."

Omi pleaded, "Ken went to the church that night to protect her from the rest of us. When she boasted how she'd killed Natsuki he lost his temper."

Ken kept Nagi's gaze. "If you decide to lose your temper for payback that's fair."

Nagi considered. He didn't have to consider long. "Rosenkreuz ground into talents not to lose their temper. But you have a promise you can still make good on, and teach me soccer." He twined his fingers with Ken's bugnuks and led him out of the room. Ken gladly held onto the warm and solid hand.

Omi began smiling, until he turned to Aya. Then he glanced at the little knife the redhead was still holding, and his face became anxious again. "Aya-kun? Can you forgive this?"

"I always thought Omi Tsukiyono was not only the smartest but the best man I've ever known. I've seen no reason to change my mind." Aya handed back the knife. It was a sharp but fragile little toy.

Farfarello relaxed slightly. If he still did believe Schuldig was somehow to blame for this lair invasion, at least it hadn't ended in a Schuldig-type mess. "But better that you put more clothes on," he said. "Schu would rag us forever if he saw this."

Both Weiss thought of Aya's dirty clothes. Omi said doubtfully, "He could borrow some of your cooking clothes." To Aya he explained, "Jei's our best cook, always messing around with blenders and such."

Farfarello took on the defensive look of the male who sees his traditional clothes under threat. Then he grinned. It was still a disturbing sight. "Lookin' for clothes, gae to the'man who has them. Schu'll never miss 'em."

Omi grinned too. "He's a wide range. Come and choose, Aya-kun."

Aya would rather have been sleeping, but followed them into Schuldig's music room-with-bed. There were a lot of clothes, dirty and carpeting the room. He felt there was one thing he had to point out. "You say 'our' cook, so you feel Schwarz." Omi opened his mouth, but what was there to say? Aya shook his head slightly, and managed a small smile. "But if you turn up working for Kritiker - "

Farfarello backed out of a wardrobe, arms filled with shirts. "Trousers that wardrobe. No, Fujimiya, we're not workin' for Kritiker. We're nae even staying in Japan."

Omi explained, "Crawford didn't exactly say he was going to remain at their beck and call – doesn't he have anything in a dark quiet colour - ?"

"He did too. That dark blue'd be y' best bet. He made'n appointmen' special so some disgruntled ex-employees c'd mee' him an' discuss their grievances...Crawfor's go' quite a sense of humour when Schuldig's no' telling him t'light'n up and have fun." Aya looked at him and then at Omi.

"Really, Aya-kun, won't it be better all round for Kritiker to be headed by Manx? Schwarz were very democratic about it, and had a vote."

"Who voted?" Stroking the midnight blue silk regretfully, "I'll be trying to get a job in construction. Schuldig must have denims?"

"No, Aya-kun, you're coming with us. Kritiker believes we're dead. There'd always be the chance – those jeans are a very dark green, and since they were bought to be tight - "

Dumping out several drawers of underwear, Farfarello grinned to watch Omi and Aya desperately trying to find something staid enough for Weiss tastes. "We should get him spares while we're at it."

It was clothing anyway, and it seemed to please Omi. Seeing himself in Schuldig's wide and full length mirror Aya thought maybe he did look good. Farfarello assured him that all he needed was a bandana and no one could tell the difference. Omi was laughing, and the others smiling when they realised there was a tall man standing in the doorway.

They stared at Crawford. Farfarello as usual spoke his mind. "Looks like Hidaka won that round or three."

Crawford touched one black eye. "That's Hidaka." He touched the other. "That's Schuldig." Turning to leave he said as casually as Crawford gets, "I'll be in my office the rest of the night. If Fujimiya wants more sleep, he better use my room. Better lock it, Schuldig's likely to be upset at losing any of the best trash collection in the eastern hemisphere." Farfarello smirked.

Aya had already been surprised at the flimsy little locks that satisfied Farfarello's housemates. He didn't think one would stop Schuldig. The kitchen knives were blunt plastic, but there was a hefty bottle opener with a rudimentary point.

In sharp contrast to the other bedrooms, Crawford's was tidy beyond the point of sterility, even more than Aya's own. When the bright room lights glared off its chrome pale perfection, he decided to be satisfied with bright summer starlight through the wide window. He curled up on the top of the counterpane, half asleep and wholly ready. He kept focused. Just like a mission. Not too tense, not too relaxed, breathe steady, and keep watching the doorway.

Of course Schuldig came in through the window. Aya had barely time to take advantage of the rug rucked in front of it and jump him. Schuldig grabbed his hands, the bottle opener's steel point missing his throat by an inch, and thrust him back against the side of the bed, painfully knocking most of the wind out of him. Pinned, Aya tried to use Schuldig's own momentum to offbalance him just a hair...

Schuldig growled in his ear, "I'm asking for your help, dammit!"

There are certain advantages to telepathy. With a normal person Aya would never have been able to get across simultaneously 'put like that, no', 'put like anything, no', and 'hope they make bright green straitjackets'. Especially winded. Schuldig tried to speak mentally and Aya walled him out, a trick even a mundane can learn and Weiss had learned quickly.

"Okay, but listen." Schuldig got off and leaned back against the bed beside him. "Crawford propositioned me this evening." Aya decided no comment was adequate. "Yeah, right, but..." Seeing Aya was recovering his breath Schuldig said, "If you don't promise not to scream for help, I'll gag you and we speak mind to naked mind." He gave the word naked as much salacity as it had ever been called to bear. It was very Aya that even as he bristled at the 'scream for help' crack he parsed Schuldig's offer to make sure he wasn't trying to smuggle in something under the double negative. He nodded briefly and Schuldig said, "I don't want to end up like Schoen."

"And I should care?"

"You owe me."

"You killed my parents!"

"If you really believed that ,you wouldn't be listening to me. Takatori gave the orders. All I added was to detonate the bomb before you and Aya-chan were in the house. If you don't care I saved your life, remeber I saved your sister's."

"You lied to Sakura. Why not to me?"

"Just chanced my arm. Hardly an elaborate deception."

"A lie suited to its audience, as this would be." But the facts were there. He jerked. "Wait a minute! You were going to let Crawford have _Ken!_"

"You and Omi were there for him. No one for me." Aya waited. Eventually Schuldig said, "I'm not going to threaten you. Or Aya-chan. You'd end up turning on me."

"What is it between you and Crawford now?"

"Ja na, we go back a way. We've learned to live with each other. Only too well. We had to at first. Crawford was assigned to Japan, and I was assigned to Crawford. I act hard and talk worse, but some of it's to score points with my team leader."

Aya guessed, "And he does the same with you."

Schuldig thought rather wistfully of his fine fierce boasts. Aya wouldn't think it much of a recommendation that he'd broken his promises. "It's never been like Weiss, you know. Crawford would never cut Schwarz the slack Omi cuts you." Rather desperately, "He is the team leader, the one responsible."

"I accept that. So you want me to smuggle you off to..." Aya tried to think where a precognitive couldn't See. Las Vegas, maybe, all those chance futures.

"I like the way you think. But nowhere has less chance than a casino. All you have to do is claim I'm already with you."

Aya recoiled. "Had your joke, now get out!"

"Not a joke!" Aya's scowl seemed set. "Let me show you." He leant closer to Aya, without touching, and kissed him. Aya pulled back his fist to strike but there was no tongue, and his lips were as cold as ice. He really was frightened. At Aya's reaction, "I won't ask you to do that again. Just...let me walk into the breakfast room with my arm round your waist, and I'll explain how we've been an item for..." he waited in vain for a contribution from Aya, who was still wondering if he could manage that arm round the waist. "Well, since you were working construction, say." Still nothing from Aya. "You okay with that?"

"I'd hate lying to Ken and Omi."

"It won't hurt them. And if it goes wrong later, better they can tell Crawford they didn't know." Aya thought there was a very good chance Crawford would back his claim with a bullet. Schuldig caught that, gave him a quick glimpse of Crawford's pride. Being second choice would not be acceptable.

Aya had been about to say that Schoen, member of a rival team who might well have been trying to pull a Neu on Crawford, had had a very different relationship to him than Schuldig. Now telepathy showed him a man who would not be owned by Esset, and not because they were too ruthless. It showed him setting up Takatori, who thought he'd earned their loyalty. It showed him Schoen dying slowly with a bullet in her gut. Aya closed his eyes against the confusion of images, which just made them worse. Schuldig said, "Two employers who gave him free rein, a lover who was just trying to help her team. When it comes to just the idea of other people controlling him Crawford's as crazy as Farf at his worst. Can't tell what'll trigger it." And a brief snatch not meant for Aya, how it didn't work both ways. Aya caught a brief memory neither he nor Schuldig wanted him to have, of Schuldig and Farfarello submitting to a beating from a man they could have broken in a moment, for Crawford's purpose.

"Very well. No funny stuff?"

Schuldig drew in his breath for quick reassurance, then looked at the young man beside him. Even in the dim light, it seemed too much to ask. "Not without permission."

"You don't have it." With that, Aya put his head on Schuldig's shoulder and fell asleep.

Several days overdue, but he was only allowed three hours. Schuldig was shaking his shoulder and saying apologetically, "Sorry, but everyone is already assembled for our grand entrance."

Aya splashed water on his face and combed his hair with his fingers, but he still didn't feel any entrance would be grand. Among the things he ought to know about his faux lover, "What's your first name?"

"Kristian."

Awkward, in Schwarz. "How do you like your tea and coffee?"

"Coffee. German, which is black and very strong."

"Religion? Politics?"

"Just say no."

Aya automatically turned right toward the dining room but felt a sudden urge to go left. "Stop that!"

Schuldig bore the smug look of someone who's just stroked a wild animal with soft fur. "But you kind of knocked Schwarz' dining room about. Nagi's let us use the bridge." Aya looked at him. "It's the other big room of the suite. Nagi converted it to serious geekery and plastered it with NASA posters."

He opened the door. Aya nodded once and Schuldig slid his arm around his waist, waiting patiently for Aya to force himself into a poor copy of relaxation. They walked in, and for a moment Aya forgot Schuldig and Schwartz and breathing.

Nagi had painted everything matte black and hung the all walls, the ceiling, and, yes, even the floor, with full scale deep space photos. For a minute Aya was all Ran again, until he finally noticed the figures in the foreground.

Except Crawford, who had spilled coffee all over his eggs three minutes ago, Farfarello was the first to notice them. He grinned and wolf whistled. Ken and Omi stared. Nagi lifted his eyes to the ceiling and his lips moved, a gesture Farfarello luckily didn't notice. Crawford had already recovered from the shock, but he did not look at either of them with favour. He said sourly, "Now that we're all here..."

Ken said, "Aya! Did he - ?" Then he called Schuldig a name or two.

Schuldig, of course, had to overdo it. "Our star crossed love - "

Aya said, "No, he didn't."

Nonetheless Ken growled and lunged at Schuldig with both fists swinging. Only one of them hit, but that was enough.

Crawford smirked. "Hidaka, you dropped him, you tidy him up."

Aya said resignedly, "I'll take his feet." To Crawford he said, "Thank you for the use of your room."

"Why not tell me you didn't need it?"

"I didn't find it easy to explain."

On the way to Schuldig's bedroom, Ken was full of questions. His active lifestyle had left him with enough stamina to carry half a tall telepath while unreservedly expressing his feelings. The few times Aya had time to reply – he didn't know why people insisted on calling him silent, with Yohji, Ken and Omi who could get in a word – he said, "I'm sorry I lied to you" and "I owe Kristian". Schuldig he still wasn't sure about, but Kristian had been scared and come to him for help.

A few minutes later Crawford was saying, "Now that we're all here except Schuldig I think you should know why. Tsukiyono has some idea.

"I very seldom have a long range vision. When I do it means real danger. I had one about a young woman who has been kidnapped for one of those experiments. She's escaped temporarily, but without help Esset will recapture her. Her genes are so special that could mean in the long run a disaster to equal the coming of the One. Farblos is hunting her." Farfarello growled. "Farblos are a Rank A team of Rosenkreuz. Only three people, and it would still be a close run whether they or Schwarz would come ahead in a showdown. With three new Schwarz the odds are worth gambling our lives on."

Ken asked, "Schwarz?"

"You are no longer Weiss. Weiss Three is no more. Kritiker is already putting together a Weiss Four. Kudoh with two more unprotected youngsters who are crazed with grief."


	2. Grau

Not one to pass up the chance of playing lord of the manor, Crawford had taken advantage of Bavaria's roomier, cheaper housing. He'd rented Schwarz a schloss. Even ten years of neglect, and cheap rental furniture, didn't stop Aya's bedroom from being his idea of thoroughly inconvenient luxury. It seemed the more alien as he woke from this new nightmare.

Aya staggered up and dressed with even less care than usual. He trekked the corridors until he found the grand staircase and sat on its bottom step.

The staircase had been built and used for grand descents and entrances. Men in brilliant military uniforms or impeccable evening dress. Women in sweeping gowns, with a maid fussing around. It had never looked to better advantage than now, with a balustrade shading one poorly clad young man, exotic and beautiful.

The great front door swung open, and Ken and Nagi entered with ringing boots and laughter. Where they had been playing was the vegetable beds overgrown into a meadow, and besides sweat they smelt of wildflowers and herbs. Nagi was recounting one of his tries at introducing Crawford, of Nisei parentage, to his Japanese heritage. They smiled across the broad hall at Aya.

He stared desperately back. "Ken, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Aya closed his eyes. The nightmare had been overwhelming, but he could only remember vivid, sharp edged fragments. Of Ken growing to enjoy, then need, killing. Of Omi having given away so much of himself there was, in the end, no Omi left. Most vivid of all himself, deciding to care for anyone was to lose them, and he was nothing but a murderer. That Aya walked away from both of them and wouldn't look back. Remembering the unhappy Siberian, he decided it was none of the business of Nagi's smiling, clear-eyed Ken, but, "I do apologise." To Nagi, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Schuldig disentangled from Aya's cool, clear mind just in time to avoid being overwhelmed by the Ken and Nagi's louder thoughts. Besides, he'd listened quietly about as long as he could manage. He chimed in. *Meeting in the breakfast room in twenty minutes.* This time he dodged being trampled by Ken and Nagi physically.

Aya followed them slowly. Schuldig met him in the corridor outside the breakfast room and stared at him anxiously. Aya looked back. Schuldig squirmed slightly. Most people would have fled the country. Sometimes Schwarz joked about Schuldig being crazier than Farfarello, but he was steady when needed. Answering the anxieties whirling in Aya's head, "None of us are going mad. Even Farf's a lot better." Those smoke-blue eyes gleamed at Aya's opinion Schuldig did madness, not suffered it. Schuldig had only the least idea of what troubled Aya, but he also had no objection to lying for even a good cause. "Odd dreams, but only dreams. And if not, we'll stop them from coming true. That's what visions are for."

Aya's gaze warmed to something near respect. As the telepath led the way into the breakfast room, he caught a wisp of Aya's normally better screened thoughts. 'If only he wasn't...' Wasn't what? What could possibly be wrong with him? Some hidebound types objected to his clothes, but he was offering to take those off. Schuldig was sincerely puzzled.

For their war council all seven were gathered in what was still an impressive dining room. The more so since Crawford had refused to tolerate plastic furniture and cracked, curtainless windows.

It was Omi, more used to fighting a stronger enemy, who suggested ambushing them in the Austrian Alps. Once the suggestion had been made Crawford's talent, though vague in a long timeframe, saw the shadow of success.

It was Nagi who suggested one or two Schwarz intercept Sally Schumars and her guardian, Rudolf. He was probably about to volunteer himself and Ken when both Farfarello and Schuldig beat him to it.

Crawford smirked slightly and said, "I'll be at the fight. I See myself ready for Amlisch and Tsukiyono for Sergei. Silvia I don't See at all. As we prefer Nagi not to kill, I think Schuldig fittest to take her on. She probably scouted ahead to find Schumars and Blechner, which would be a good time for Schuldig to kill her." He nodded to Aya. "I don't See you there either, and you will be a useful backup for Schuldig. Hotel Gemutcheidi, top floor."

Ken complained, "Where does this leave Nagi and me? At home making miso soup?"

Crawford's glasses gleamed, reasonably benevolent. At times Schuldig was reassured the precog held no grudge against Hidaka for winning the fistfight. At other times he remembered Crawford had got in a good few hits of his own. "You two will be talking to a Herr Berger on neutral ground, trying to persuade him to join us against Farblos." To Ken, "Wear your claws. Berger will only respect you for a show of strength."

Ken looked understandably dubious about his diplomatic skills. "What can we offer him?"

"Being top dog among Rosenkreuz' talents. Even Berger backs off for Farblos."

Nagi had been in Rosenkreuz just long enough to know, "That won't be enough."

"I know. But Berger will think I believe it enough, and he's almost as good a telepath as Schuldig. He'll tell Farblos that I am trying to recruit extra help so they won't look for an immediate attack."

Nagi asked, "Since Berger's a telepath, wouldn't it have been better not to tell us this?"

"You both have good shields. If I hadn't told you Hidaka would have knocked Berger out and dragged him back by force. Which would complicate matters."

Schuldig waited a beat and Crawford pushed up his spectacles a little. Schuldig remembered he had his own credit card now. And his own Weiss. He smirked at Aya. As they rose to leave, he tensed. Crawford 's mental voice spoke privately, as cold and hard and impersonal as ever. The precog was ignoring his rejection. *Do not threaten Aya-chan.* Unpleasant to think he hadn't fooled Crawford. But Schuldig had learned to cover strong reactions. He nodded carelessly. He had hopes for more than forced sex and itchy shoulder blades anyway.

Farfarello loved gadget laden spy movies. As they left he was trying to persuade Omi to help him rig his car up with hidden artillery.

* * *

They drove up to the hotel while the last of the sunset made a gold star production of the mountain scenery and the picture postcard village nestled in it. All it lacked for Schuldig was his having managed to get Fujimiya into the same sort of tourist extreme clothes as he was wearing himself.

The receptionist was a stout, jolly looking matron whose eyes had a dull sort of greed. Centuries ago innkeepers like her had killed their guests for a few coppers. Schuldig had been going to work on her sense of romance, but now implanted the suggestion she would get a better tip if she said the only room left on the top floor was one with a single bed. Fujimiya didn't exactly glare at Schuldig, but Schuldig had no doubt who he blamed for that.

He had no intention of letting it spoil his mood. While Aya was checking the bathroom – he lived in the hope of finding Japanese bathrooms even in darkest Europe - Schuldig opened the picture window and threw the sofa out as far as possible, hearing an admirable wood-splintering crash where it landed.

Aya came back and looked around with mild surprise. "What happened to the sofa?"

"What sofa?" Aya lifted an eyebrow. "The colour offended me."

Aya looked at Schuldig, whose folk costume was predominately but no means exclusively yellow, and said, "Well, if you go on throwing sofas out windows, there'll be an accident."

"Gimcrack piece of work," Schuldig said feebly. "We're much safer without it. And there's lots of room in the bed," he hadn't even been in the bedroom yet, "enough for a Mormon family and their in-laws."

"I'll rig something up." Aya began rearranging the two low backed armchairs.

Possibly plotting to throw out the chairs too, Schuldig watched him take a blanket from the bedroom. "I'll freeze!" he said pitifully.

"There's a fire." Aya put a match to the log fire, already arranged, and it behaved perfectly.

Schuldig glowered at it for that, then at Aya's cosy little nest. "It looks like a cot." Aya ignored that. "A cat basket." Aya ignored that too. "I've been thinking..." he looked suspiciously at Aya, who looked blandly back. "That time I rough housed you."

"You mean tried to kill me."

"Pedant. Anyway, it didn't get that far. I pawed you but it wasn't much. You know, it's none of my business, but if you've had any bad experiences," said Schuldig with growing enthusiasm, "It doesn't have to be that way. I've been thinking of ways to show you - "

"What have you been reading?"

"It's the receptionist. She has a whole stash of paperbacks like that."

"Aya-chan had that sort of book."

"Japan or Germany. France, of course, is a lot more sophisticated." Schuldig grinned at him and Aya stared back, trying not to show his worry. Over Aya-chan, of course. This mundane about to go against Farblos, armed only with one of Farf's knives and a pistol about the weight to tackle a Pekinese, was worried about some Frenchman getting fresh with his sister. Schuldig's grin widened. "Hey, this shouldn't take long. We can go to Paris afterward. She'll be so glad to see you."

"Not in the long run." It wasn't just self hatred, which made him fear seeing her hate him. He couldn't have helped noticing what happened to Weiss' women, and adding Schwarz to the mix only made it the more dangerous for her.

With no sofa to lie on, and the chairs basketed, Schuldig stretched out on his back upon the rug in front of the log fire. He folded his arms behind his head and smirked. He knew he looked good. "What's she like?" He didn't try to read his mind, this was meant to relax Aya.

Aya waited a few minutes. Schuldig knew he'd a habit of keeping quiet and letting the other get on with the agenda. He was determined it wouldn't work this time. "I suppose, my opposite. Social, cheerful, popular..." They both lifted their heads. Aya prowled toward the corner of the room furthest from Schuldig, taking off his jumper and fingering it nervously. "I'd just bought her a pair of earrings, which were going to be important in scoring her points. She really cared about things like that." He stood shadowed in the darkest corner.

"Women do. Don't they, Silvia?" He was suddenly standing, weight well balanced.

The bathroom door opened very slowly and reluctantly. A small Chinese woman slipped into the main room with them. Schuldig vaguely thought the red silk dress she wore traditional. Her lovely little face had a long scar down its side. Her strong perfume was musky. He opened his mouth to tell Aya to put away the Beretta he was holding under his jumper and was distracted by her voice, as any man would be. It had often have been compared to the tinkle of temple bells. "Someone must've been helping you with your talent. You always used it like a sledgehammer."

"I still can. May I introduce Silvia Lin, flower of Farblos and rose of Rosenkreuz." When she gave Aya a measuring look, "A mundane." She dismissed Aya completely. Schuldig watched Aya make himself as unobtrusive as possible. It was Kristian who tried to smile properly, but it still came out more of a Schuldig smirk.

He concentrated on speaking high class German. "You shouldn't wear that scent when trying to eavesdrop, my beauty." And because he wanted Aya to know how valuable Silvia was, "Silvia's telekinesis isn't in Nagi's league, but has the rare extra of teleportation. For sure," addressing her again, "that's not the only fine rare use of it you make."

He broke up the armchair bed and shook off the blanket to push one towards her. Their hands touched and he looked at the face that had once burned in him. He felt a faint, surprising sting of jealousy from Aya, but Aya was out of his focus now. Not romantic jealousy anyway, he told himself.

Sitting in a chair, "I've missed you, Silvia. We were good together."

She sat in the other. "You were only a kid, and young for your age."

"Not too young to know the best. Schwarz has been in Japan..." At her nod he smiled. "You've been following our careers?"

"Crawford's, anyway." He felt a cold stab in his chest. This was what grief felt like. He'd felt others' often enough. "Crawford's a great guy, and he deserves the best." She leaned forward and looked into his eyes. His heart slowed and cold took everything.

Grief didn't eat you entirely. Schuldig had felt enough death to know he was dying. He'd been fighting mundanes too long. A telekinetic did not need a gun.

Aya shot her in the head.

Schuldig came to with Aya's hands catching him as Schuldig slid from the chair. For a minute Schuldig let himself rest and recover his breath. But Aya was sorry for him, and for a moment that was bitterest of all. He jerked himself to his feet, unconsciously rubbing over his heart area. They had been lucky Silvia hadn't gone for the brain.

Aya said, "Breathe deeply."

Schuldig breathed in a great sob and looked at him, feeling his face twist. He wasn't sure whether it was grief or anger.

It still hadn't sunk in that Silvia was dead and Aya was responsible. Indeed it would take him some time to realise that Silvia had nearly killed him. His pain was that Silvia had wanted him dead. But Schuldig was hurt and wanted to hurt in return. Rosenkreuz training ran deep. He remembered Aya was his teammate. He remembered that mundanes were to be used.

And someone was going to pay.

When Schuldig turned toward the door Aya jumped him. From the first Schwarz would have had an easier time if telepathy could control any Weiss directly. Schuldig still tried to defend himself with talent, pouring into Aya's mind pain and fear and disgust just short of death or madness. Aya grimly focused on pinning Schuldig physically so that the German couldn't use his greater strength. Aya had Schuldig face down with one arm twisted up behind him and the other immobilised beneath him.

Schuldig twisted his neck so he could glimpse Aya with one eye. From broad general emotions he narrowed and sharpened, choosing memories designed to hurt Aya. His parents, his sister, his own kills. There were enough innocent witnesses there, and ignorant guards, hopeless and heroic.

It wasn't the first time for Aya. He didn't bother to justify it, or cloak it, but kept holding Schuldig.

Schuldig tried persuading him. He'd little enough breath for talking, but it wouldn't stop him. *There's a smuggler two rooms down. Drugs in his briefcase, jewels in his nightcase. You can let me have him. I won't touch anyone else.*

Aya doubted he had that much self control yet, but even so, "No one."

*I'll give you what you want...What do you want for your sister? I can do it!* After losing another physical struggle, he searched for the most effective threats against her. Crawford's cold order gagged him until he realised what Aya would do about them. Choking them back burnt his mouth. He managed a few words, pitching his voice a little higher, "Aya-kun, you're hurting me!" He projected Omi so hard that for a second Aya almost thought it was Omi he was manhandling. Aya couldn't keep holding so tight, could he? But he did. *Not that I'm complaining, mind you.* He deliberately moved against Aya's crotch. He hoped Aya would recoil: he could have used arousal. Aya's grip didn't shift. Schuldig sighed dramatically and made himself flop full length, hoping Aya would take this as surrender.

The fire sputtered out, smoking, and the smoke caught his throat. Schuldig told himself it was smoke making tears smart. Aya waited patiently while those tears ran for a little. When Schuldig was breathing normally again he ventured, "Kristian?"

That hurt and angered him too. *That's what Silvia called me. Now she's dead there's no Kristian any longer. There's just Schuldig.*

Aya answered from his own reconciliation of Aya and Ran. "We call water different names when it's ice or rain. It's the same element."

The ice prince indeed, his voice was as steady as his grasp. The element water fit Aya. Where most mundane minds were stickily sweet, Aya's was clean and cool and clear. In Japan Schuldig had found this in a few people with Zen training. It fit the snow white skin, the icy violet grey eyes, even the red hair a cold shade like sunset reflected in deep water.

He'd seen flashes of childhood memory, other kids had jeered at small Aya as a snow demon. Now he sent Aya images of a snow demon with Aya's face, eternally hungry and alone. He didn't expect it to help him, but he knew it would hurt Aya, and that was natural for him. Ice and rain and even ocean for Aya, but he was fire and fire burns anyone who touches. He sent a picture of a fire demon. *But I will master the fire for today.*

Finally Aya backed off. Not very far; he knelt beside Schuldig and touched his shoulder very lightly. "Just today?"

Schuldig put his forehead to the carpet and thought. He wasn't as bright as any of the Weiss. Kritiker needed a certain level of intelligence in their assassins, but Esset recruited for talent. He did understand what it could mean. Not only did he want to change, could he? He'd always let someone else run his life for him, which had included stopping him when _they_ thought he was going too far. He was in his twenties now, which is late to grow up. He wouldn't have been human if he hadn't felt nervous. It wasn't much of life, sometimes a tool and sometimes a pest, but it was his, and he'd grown used to it. He didn't know what, he didn't how, he didn't know if.

"If," he said. "I tell you tomorrow I'll do whatever I want." Now Aya would threaten him, and he would smirk back, and...

"Everything will go on just the same." Aya's deep voice was as flat as it had ever been. Now it was the right tone for the words 'just the same'. Years and years of it.

Schuldig shrugged, as far as a man lying down can. "Okay, you're on."

Neither looked at the corpse. Schuldig already knew what someone shot through the head looked like. It seemed Aya didn't look because he didn't want to draw Schuldig's gaze to her. To get Schuldig out of the room, so as to wrap her in a blanket before he came back, "If you get out the car to drive to the cemetery - "

Schuldig interrupted. "We're Schwarz, not Weiss, remember? I know what Amlisch and Sergei look like. I'll change the memory of the receptionist so it'll be their faces she recalls. In the fuss about a murder no one'll notice if the memory doesn't fit smooth."

Aya nodded, stood gracefully, and offered Schuldig a hand up. The German took it and scrambled up less gracefully. Still holding it, "Can't we can work out some sort of incentive scheme?" It took Aya a surprisingly long time to realise he was joking. Of course, Schuldig was pretty close.

Distractedly Aya said, "That would rather take the point out of it, wouldn't it?"

Schuldig tried to make his mental voice less invasive than usual. *You didn't have one?* He watched in Aya's mind a jigsaw from his childhood, of his parents urging him on to be a man, even allowing him to disobey a direct order on his own judgment. Very different from Schuldig's Rosenkreuz childhood. Perhaps one day Schuldig would be able to stop pretending that his had made him tougher, but for today...He braced himself and looked at Silvia.

It wasn't quite as bad as Aya's imagination had painted it, but it was pretty bad. He felt Aya's hand on his shoulder. "Get the car out. I'll pack." Aya looked at him, the faint shadow on his face a great show of concern for Aya, and draped the orange jumper on his shoulders.

Schuldig thought it would have looked better on him than it did on Aya. As it was, the bullet had burnt a hole in it. *Hope you don't mind losing the jumper too much?*

*Naru would be pleased at it going out with a bang.* Schuldig caught his memory. The jumper had been a farewell present from Crashers' youngest member, and the colour deliberately chosen. Orange symbolises energy, warmth and sociability; Naru thought he needed them all. Stepping back, "Okay?"

The telepath found himself reluctant to tell him that his shock wasn't from a broken heart; most of it was from broken vanity. He automatically rested against Aya's mind as he scanned for anyone who had heard and recognised a not very loud pistol shot. He twitched, then smiled reassuringly down into Aya's eyes. *Nothing relevant.* Aya looked worried. * I'll tell you later.* Much later, he told himself. He checked the team link. *Scheisse!* He made a soothing gesture that lingered on Aya's shoulder a trifle long. *Hidaka killed Berger. Seems he tried to drag Nagi back to Rosenkreuz...You kitties scratch when teased, don't you?*

Aya nodded. That would be dealt with in its own time. "I'll drive."

"I can drive," said Schudig, who didn't want to brood on what he'd found out in this hotel room and another. "You know you can rely on me."

Aya nodded once. He could rely on Schuldig at work. And rely on Schuldig not to die, through treachery or ambush. Not to sit there in a rich house, telling him the revenge he needed wouldn't fit the Big Picture.

There was very little packing to do, Aya had it in the boot and had started the engine by the time Schuldig had jimmied the receptionist's mind. Aya drove most of the night. The car engine sounded very loud in the quiet dark. Though dipped, the headlights glittered like neon signs. On shotgun, Schuldig put off discussing Crawford's orders. His own talent told him no one noticed, or would have cared if they had. He knew how fallible talent was. Schuldig relieved Aya, who was rather tired, when they got off the main road onto the final tricky stretch.

He'd thought concentrating on driving hill roads at night would give him an excuse not to talk, but he was very conscious of the silent young man beside him. "I don't have to tell you anything," he said, grinding the gear change. "In Schwarz we tell Crawford, and he tells the others if we need to know." Aya didn't bother to say anything to that. "I mean, a precog's bound to be the best at choosing futures."

"It seems basic logic that the more people know what's up, the more we'll know about it and the more futures will open."

"You were a lot less headache when we were fighting." Aya shrugged slightly. He'd stated his position, and it was up to Schuldig what he did about it. There was going to be no gear change left at this rate. "We didn't tell even Farf or Nagi." He was silent for a minute, possibly realising how much there was he and Crawford didn't tell Farf or Nagi. "It's Tsukiyono." One of Aya's trigger words. Schuldig couldn't turn back now. "He has a grandfather back in Japan, a true Takatori as unlike Omi as possible. But he wants his last grandchild. Brad sees nothing but disaster if Omi ever meets that wicked, pathetic old man."

Without more than the normal mundane's precognition Aya could see it too. But, "Omi chose to be Omi when he met his brothers." He hoped that somewhere Kikuno knew taking her as his parent had helped Omi out of the Takatori trap, and that she didn't mind too much the lover, male, homicidal and gaijin, who had suggested it.

"Grown men fighting Weiss. A few lies from a ruthless old man...all you Weiss are such softies." To prove his macho-ness Schuldig strangled the choke one handed as he backed the car beneath a rock overhang where even in daylight they would not have been easily seen. The dull, indirect light of pre-dawn flowed around them; even so Schuldig felt he was on the wrong end of his usual advantage. Weiss all had excellent night vision.

"I'm not!"

"Well, maybe not Yohji, sometimes."

"And you read the mind of...a Kritiker agent after Omi? It wasn't Manx, was it?" Schuldig might find Aya's belief in a nurturing Manx rather sentimental, but Aya was right about the main point. Omi had been raised so Manx's approval was important to him.

Schuldig shook his head, smirk back. "Sorry to miss that big confrontation scene that you've dreamed up, but as far as I know Manx is back in Japan, minding her cauldron. No, and I only told you so you'd see Crawford's not wanting to go back to Japan is not just a stubborn whim."

"And you think we should go back to Japan?"

Schuldig winced at the s word. "Back in that hotel was a pyrotic from Esset. When it looked their tame koala would have Japan in his pocket, they started a project there, a battery farm for the Master Race..." He could pass their watch on the road with tales of Rosenkreuz and Esset, but that was more for Halloween nights. And it would be urging Aya to return to Japan to fight Epitaph. He fiddled with the car radio.

He was hoping for a silly love song, mellow jazz, Chopin...He got a university lecturer with a strong Stuttgard accent in the middle of the Middle Ages. Aya, who had been worrying at the German language implant as if it was a new filled tooth, but loved history, settled down to listen. Schuldig decided to settle for distraction instead of romance.

Schwarz were prepared to take on Esset if they had to, as the present mission proved. But he hoped Kritiker would fight that battle. And if he was feeling defensive (which of course he was not!) he would point out Schwarz had already helped them. With Farblos and Berger dead, they had a good chance.

* * *

Omi Tsukiyono had a rich and vital mind, a strong and creative intelligence, strong passions that didn't betray the intelligence. As they had found out, to Omi's cost, Schuldig was apt to find it all a bit intoxicating. But this time the telepath slid into Omi's mind as covertly as possible. This was not fun and games. Schwarz was betting everything on Bombay.

Omi was in ambush position above the mountain road, hidden from normal and paranormal sight beneath a heavy blanket warm and snow coloured, immobile as a hunting cat. He had practiced hard with the new dark-painted bow he held cocked and in position. Schuldig fought the temptation to distract Omi from the memory that this had to invoke. His patience was justified. Omi controlled the memory, its grief, tidied it away, and concentrated on this road this morning.

The Farblos car came around the shoulder even faster than expected. There was only an instant. That was enough, and the quarrel hit Sergei square in the throat.

Amlisch had been ambushed before. He grabbed the wheel with one hand, tossed something white out the window, and floored the accelerator. If he needed to brake, the car was a goner, but then probably he was too.

The white object fluttered, showed itself to be the pigeon Amlisch used for his eyes. Using clairvoyance was only a minor lessening on Amlisch's formidable screens and focus. It was just enough. Schuldig slid into his mind and took motor control for a few seconds. Just enough to hold his hands still for one curve. Just enough for the car to go off the cliff.

* * *

Aya opened his eyes and looked dizzily at Schuldig, who looked rather smug. Piggybacking someone on your talent is hard enough in ideal conditions, doing it just then would have turned Berger's hair green with envy, if it wasn't already. "That was impressive."

"I know."

"Only, will Crawford be pleased you took Amlisch? He had those mirrors set up at the bend of the road - "

"Crawford will be fine with it. We're not on that short a leash." Then Schuldig smirked a full Schuldig smirk. "Farf's not gonna be happy, though. He had his jeep full cocked and ready to fire." At the moment there were more important things closer. "Aya..."

A couple on a motorbike raced past. Schuldig felt relief he had not had to obey Crawford's orders. If Schwarz couldn't stop Farblos from taking Sally, they were to see Sally was no use to them. And that was one thing they had no intention of sharing with the Weiss or Nagi.

It would have ruined the moment.

He only looked after them for a moment, in passing, but when he looked back he saw those violet grey eyes hard in realisation. He'd never understood how non-telepaths could sometimes read minds. "They would have preferred being dead," he tried. He didn't believe it himself. There had been a lot of suicides in Rosenkreuz, but Kristian had clung to life.

Aya answered his own thoughts. "Crawford comes first."

"He's the leader. That's different. And he was right." Schuldig tried to puzzle what was going on behind the violet grey wall. "You must know you're not just a substitute for Sylvia." Aya wasn't the type to give people second chances, and being pawed had just confirmed what he'd learnt in Weiss about sex, gay and straight. But the two settled couples of Schwarz had been showing otherwise, and he'd been relaxing around Schuldig, learning he could trust him. Unfortunately one of the things he trusted him to do was not grab, and Schuldig thought he might not be able to keep it up.

Schuldig had really had hopes of that hotel room.

He turned firmly away from what actually had happened in it. Rosenkreuz made all its women into whores, anyway. He only hoped Rudolf had good sex from Sally Schumars.

Aya dropped his shield. Schuldig read that he trusted Schuldig not to take advantage of it, and was wondering when he'd learned trust. When he'd learned to rely on Schuldig. When he'd started enjoying his company. Aya asked, "Are we friends?" The freak at school hadn't much experience of friendship.

Schuldig concentrated on the mechanics of pulling out and turning around as if it was a driving test. Except that he'd been confident about the driving test. *I'd like that, but...* He decided there was something to be said for speech after all. "I planned friendship. I needed your protection, and I wanted you." A snatch of Rosenkreuz. "That was just callous but, y'know, I can be deliberately cruel in a way Farf isn't. He likes using knives. I was after prey. I think that's what he meant about me breaking you. There's a lot of darkness in me."

*Not particularly Rosenkreuz* "There's a lot in you. You were upfront. I knew what you were about, and I enjoyed your company. I'd say if you take us over the cliff in a car accident it'll be a cop out, you've never struck me as a coward." Schuldig beat up the brakes this time. "Pull over."

Schuldig felt this cause for optimism. If Aya wanted a pre-sale sample, Schuldig was pretty sure he could convince. He pulled over. "You know, I've learnt a lot since Silvia. I've learnt about - "

Aya winced as the engine muttered a complaint. "Slide over. I'm driving." Schuldig slid over, ostentatiously holding his hands up so he didn't grope Aya.

Schuldig did think it unfair that the car was so much quieter with Aya. He only wished him a bit more blasé about the scenery. Okay, it was spectacular, mountains crowned with dawn-flushed summits, toy-size and picture book farmhouses in meadows of wildflowers, etc. A bad time to remember Aya had always had a suicidal streak. Obviously thinking of something else, the younger man asked, "I'm not used to screwing my teammates. Is it all or nothing for you?"

Schuldig knew this was an important question. The trouble was Aya was screened. He didn't know the answer Aya wanted. He felt it slightly unfair not to be allowed the advantage of telepathy. He wasn't used to a level playing field. As a last resort, tell the truth. "We can go on as teammates. I've survived this far. Look, maybe Rosenkreuz isn't as different as its alumni like to think, but while you were learning I was being trained to be a weapon. I don't know if there are arguments on my side, and you do."

"A pretty bright weapon to make me argue its side. I might say we need light to live, but live in shadow. I wonder if I'd be brash enough to point out that I'd be getting an attractive package?" He returned Schuldig's smirk with a small but genuine smile. Schuldig felt his own expression soften. Then blanch. Rounding a bend far too casually, "I guess I would. But, Schuldig, Kristian, I'm not sure I'm gay. It just doesn't turn me on, the thought of you - "

"Being seme," finished Schuldig. "It doesn't take a telepath to see you're not the uke type, and I won't expect you to be."

Aya glanced sideways at him, eyes a darker shade of violet. "Just what do you want, though?"

"What the others think we've got now, for real." Schuldig wished they were somewhere he could try a kiss. Or something. Schuldig was very aware his sharp, drawly voice came out sarcastic even when he didn't want.

Aya thought this over. Rather more than Schuldig wanted when he was negotiating a semi-converted goat track. He didn't need to be a telepath to know Aya was seeing all that could go wrong, and a few things that probably couldn't.

"Next time - " the car shied for a second " - I'll come equipped with all sort of statistics to prove stable long term relationships are good for you."

"Next time?"

"Sure. You don't think Crawford's a guy to save the world for free when he can get paid for doing it? I don't know just who was the customer for Farblos, but there'll be a long line of people wanting Esset off their backs."

Just when Schuldig had decided the GPS was bust, and they were totally lost, the car rounded the sharpest hairpin bend yet, and he saw the schloss, glittering in the morning sunshine. Neither comfortable nor convenient, it was still a magnificent part of the glorious scenery, fit for kings or warlords. As he watched the resident ravens flew out of their tower to one of the courtyards, where they would gather round Farfarello and feed from his hands.

They drove into the courtyard. A soccer ball just missed their windscreen and Aya parked abruptly. They could hear the rattle of someone practising rifle shooting. To judge from the wisps of smoke coming from its window, Omi or Nagi had been trying to cyberneticise the kitchen again. A beautiful tenor was singing an old Irish folk song, no doubt of revenge and slaughter. Schuldig relaxed against the back of his car seat. "Home."

Aya turned off the engine and turned to look intently at him. Then he nodded. "Home."

FIN


End file.
